Outsiders
by Magery
Summary: "Exactly why are we together again?" "Because I'm prettier than Draco?" "Do you always have to bring that up? We were both drunk!" When Charlie Weasley brought his fiancé to meet his family, she didn't expect to find out his sister was dating a former Death Eater. AU, H/G.


When Charlie Weasley appeared at the annual Weasley family gathering four years after Voldemort's defeat, nobody expected that he would be bringing a woman with him. They certainly hadn't expected that the woman would turn out to be his fiancé. To be fair, of course, he hadn't really expected it either; if you'd told him a year ago he'd be in a serious relationship and on his way to getting married, he'd probably have jokingly replied something on the lines of "So they've figured out how to turn dragons into humans, right?".

As it happened, they hadn't, but nonetheless here he was, making his way down the garden path to the backyard with Miranda on his arm—how a woman as beautiful and down-to-earth funny as she was ever agreed to marry an uncivilised dragon-tamer like himself was something he'd never really understand—towards the backyard slash Quidditch pitch, where he knew his family would be.

How he and Miranda had met was an interesting story, and one he'd no doubt have to tell several times – she was English, like he was, and for a while she'd been part of the resistance against Voldemort's rule. But one day, she'd explained after he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by her screams, Voldemort had raided her hometown, a fairly prominent Wizarding village, and between the monster himself and his Death Eaters, they'd tortured and killed almost every single person there.

She'd only survived because she'd been trapped under the shattered remnants of her home, destroyed by a stray Reductor curse, barely able to move and frozen silent by the horror she'd been forced to watch through a crack in the debris. After that, she just couldn't take it any more – living in fear, knowing one day she was probably going to die, losing friends and family left, right and centre. So she'd left, run away to Romania because she'd always liked magical creatures and she'd heard about the dragon-wrangling over there.

She'd thought Charlie would despise her – she knew he was a Weasley, obviously, and everyone knew they'd all fought in the war to the best of their ability. But he didn't—he couldn't—as he'd told her, because he could have left Romania to join the fight, but he didn't. He'd stayed there, comforted by the presence of the dragons he'd spent years looking after, hoping his family would make it out alive but somehow unable to join to fight because he didn't want to be there and watch as someone like Ron, or Ginny, were cut down right in front of him.

They'd argued back and forth many a time, each trying to convince the other that he or she wasn't a coward, that everyone fought wars in different ways and even if their resistance was just denying Voldemort another victim it still counted for _something_, until one day they'd both realised that the arguments they were trying to make to each other applied just as equally to themselves. Charlie still had fond memories of how they'd made up after that realisation.

And now, here they were, he back at the Burrow for the first time since last year's gathering—he hadn't been able to make it back for Christmas—to introduce his future wife without the sword of Damocles that had been Voldemort hanging over everyone's head, and she to meet for the first time the family she would be marrying into.

_Hopefully everything goes smoothly_, Charlie thought as they rounded the last corner of the Burrow, the back garden and Quidditch pitch springing into view.

* * *

When Miranda first saw her fiancé's family—she still couldn't get over the fact someone like Charlie, so loyal and loving and solidly _real_, the man who anchored her down when her sense of self felt like it was drifting away like autumn leaves in the wind, had asked her to marry him—she was struck by the realisation that when he'd told her it was large and partly honorary, she hadn't quite understood exactly what either of those terms meant. The backyard was _filled_ with people, some with red hair and some without. Of those without the distinctive Weasley colouring, many of them were clearly unattached to a family member; she recognized Sirius Black from the many stories in the Daily Prophet about him before she'd fled England. And she was fairly sure that the woman with the ever-changing hair was Nymphadora Tonks—she'd been in the same year as Miranda at Hogwarts, although she only knew her from the fact she was a Metamorphagus—although she didn't recognize the older man next to her.

By the time she'd finished being overwhelmed at the sheer size of the gathering, someone must have noticed her and Charlie, because with a babble of excited voices many of the red-heads in the room rushed over to him. The oldest, a man with a scarred face trailed by a blonde woman of astonishing beauty had to be Bill Weasley; when he arrived, he greeted Charlie with a backslapping hug before turning to her.

"Bill, this is Miranda, my fiancé," Charlie introduced with a note of definite pride.

Bill grinned before answering. "So you're the one who's managed to distract Charlie from his dragons. Nice to meet you, Miranda; never thought I'd see the day when my brother brought a woman back home with him."

His tone was easy, laid-back and welcoming and Miranda felt her nervousness recede just a little.

"It wasn't easy, let me tell you. I think for the first few months he _thought_ I was a dragon," she joked, feeling relieved when both Bill and Charlie burst out laughing. Behind him, the woman who had to be Fleur Delacour-Weasley hid a smile as she walked up and embraced Miranda.

"Welcome to the family, _ma souer_," she said with a faint accent, and Miranda wondered if there was something about Weasleys that made them welcoming to _everybody_.

Next up were two almost-identical men—the only difference between them was that one had a vicious scar running the length of his forearm—who would be Charlie's twin brothers, Fred and George. On either side of them were two athletic-looking women, presumably their wives, Angelina and Alicia. When they approached, they made a great scene of looking her up and down; Miranda felt faintly nervous under their scrutiny, because she'd heard tales about the legendary pranksters, and she could just sense that they were setting up some form of joke.

"Well, Fred," said George, "it looks like someone's been copying our ideas."

"To be fair, George, we were more focused on turning people into animals, not the other way around," Fred replied.

"It's the spirit of the thing, brother. The cheek! The nerve!"

At this point, Miranda was quite obviously confused and, sensing her distress, Charlie stepped in.

"Very funny, George," Charlie said. "Now please, stop making my fiancée more nervous than she already was."

"But Charlie," Fred began, "just because she's been turned human doesn't mean she's not a dragon! Don't you know we babble when we're nervous?"

Charlie sighed. "Is _everyone_ going to make a joke like that?"

The two women, who had been rolling their eyes good-naturedly at their husband's antics, laughed before one of them—she was standing next to Fred, so she would be Angelina—spoke up.

"Charlie, your family has been waiting for this moment for _years_," she said before turning to Miranda. "Sorry about that, even we can't really stop those two when they get going. I'm Angelina Weasley, although sometimes I wish I wasn't," Miranda laughed at Fred's scandalized expression, "and this is Alicia," she said with a gesture to the woman standing on the other side of George.

"Nice to meet you," Miranda said, and with the introductions completed the twins made they their way back to a large congregation of men and women around their age, their wives in tow. As soon as they'd left, Molly and Arthur Weasley made their appearances – Molly pulled first Charlie and then Miranda into huge, bone-cracking hugs without so much as a word before she stepped back, drying a tear out of the corner of her eye. Arthur laughed at his wife's antics before he embraced Charlie and smiled towards Miranda.

"Oh Charlie, she's beautiful! How come you didn't say anything before now?" Molly asked in one great rush.

"I wanted it to be a surprise, Mum," Charlie replied, squeezing Miranda's hand.

"You look happy, Charlie," was Arthur's only comment, but Miranda could sense his approval, and her fluttering heart, sped up in anticipation of the 'meet the parents' moment, started to relax.

"We can talk some more later on, son, I think there are others waiting in line to say hello," Arthur continued as he and Molly turned to leave. Behind them, almost as if he _had_ been waiting in line, was one of the tallest men she'd ever seen, who introduced himself as Ron Weasley; the woman next to him was most likely Hermione Granger, and Miranda felt bad for feeling surprised at how beautiful she was. From what Charlie had told her, Hermione was universally acknowledged as the brightest witch of her age, and so the mental image Miranda had formed of her did not quite match up with the almost unconsciously elegant woman before her.

"You've done well for yourself, Charlie," Ron said, winking at Miranda. Behind him, she heard Hermione's scandalized gasp of "Ron!", but Charlie simply laughed, and when she looked Ron in the eyes she could see the distinctive glint that came into Charlie's when he was pulling a joke on someone.

When she glanced at Hermione, she saw the tiny smile behind the indignation and she realised that they both knew exactly what the other was doing. It seemed Charlie had been right – the two of them seemed to enjoy riling one another up. The woman stepped up, offering her hand to shake—another thing Charlie had been right about, the formality—which Miranda took.

"Hermione Granger. It's nice to finally meet you," Hermione said, and she felt rather than saw Charlie glance at her curiously.

"What do you mean, finally?" he asked. Hermione turned to Ron almost expectantly, and with a wry grin on his face Charlie's brother started to talk.

"Yes, you told me so, and yes, I should have figured out by now you were right about everything," he said with a grin to his girlfriend before looking at Charlie. "Hermione here told me that there was something different about your letters over the past year; you talked about slightly different things and she said there was some sort of feminine touch in some of the choice of subjects. I told her she was speaking nonsense—I should really have broken that habit by now—but as you can see, once again I was wrong and she was right."

"Why am I not surprised?" Charlie asked, amusement bleeding into his voice. With that, he looked around, like he was trying to find someone. The impression was reinforced with his next question.

"Hey, where's Ginny?"

"She hasn't turned up yet," Ron said, and Miranda noted his tone was rather curious, a mixture of fondness, disapproval and an odd sense of resignation. "But don't worry, she'll probably be here eventually, if she can convince her other half to come."

_Her other half? Why didn't he refer to him by name?_ _And why wouldn't he want to come here? Everyone seems really nice!_

Charlie sighed. "I'm half hoping she fails." _Wait, what?_

"I am too, Charlie, but she won't come if he won't, so if we want to see our sister we'll have to grin and bear it."

Hermione must have noticed Miranda's confusion, because she spoke up.

"Charlie, you _have_ told your fiancée, right?"

Charlie flushed, and Miranda looked at him a little suspiciously.

"What haven't you told me, Charlie?" she asked a little dangerously.

"I was really hoping to avoid this conversation," he said, and continued just before Ron looked like he was going to butt in, "and yes, I know that's stupid, she's my sister and he's her husband in pretty much every way that matters, but… you know what I mean."

Even though he wasn't talking to her, Miranda chose to respond. She might have been more acerbic, but whatever they were talking about was clearly a very touchy subject.

"No, I don't, Charlie. What's the problem?" All right, so she was being a little rude, but this sounded like something she have known about earlier.

Suddenly, twin cracks broke the slightly awkward silence; they sounded like they came from within the Burrow. Miranda and Charlie had considered arriving like that, but she'd confessed to that she was a little nervous about meeting his whole family all at once, and so he'd suggested that maybe the walk would give her some time to calm down.

"I think it just arrived," Ron commented mysteriously as he turned to leave, and Charlie swore. Behind them, Miranda heard a door opening and turned around with Charlie, wondering if maybe she'd figure out what could make her normally-reliable fiancée flustered. Obviously it had something to do with his sister and her 'other half', but she couldn't quite imagine what had the welcoming family acting what seemed to be out of character.

The first of the two figures making their way out of the Burrow she figured had to be Ginny Weasley, thanks to her hair; it flowed down her neck, finishing past her shoulders and looking for all the world like living fire. She wasn't as beautiful as Fleur, or as elegant as Hermione, but there was an animal surety to her movements, a sort of cat-like grace that Miranda knew would turn heads anywhere the woman went. Her face lit up when she saw Charlie, breaking into a wide smile, and Miranda finally understood why Charlie had told her his brothers were very protective of their only sister; if she didn't have enough already going for her, it seemed fate had decided to grant her the sort of smile that could invigorate an entire room.

While the two siblings hugged, Miranda shifted her attention from the sister to the man who had to be her mysterious 'other half' and the source of Charlie's—and Ron's—tension.

And froze.

There, plainly displayed on the man's left forearm thanks to the Muggle-styled t-shirt he was wearing, was the Dark Mark.

_Ginny Weasley is dating a Death Eater!?_

The man must have noticed her scrutiny, because a rich laugh broke out and she flushed, raising her gaze to look him in the eye. Her hand had darted into her robe the moment she'd seen the Mark, but she hadn't drawn it; Ron and Charlie had obviously been expecting him, and they hadn't done anything about it.

It was then she realised how young he was; he seemed to be the same age as Ron. As her gaze travelled up from his arm to his face, she noticed absently that he seemed to be built like a rapier, all lean lines and quickness. By the time she ended up looking him inthe eye, she'd realised two things.

One, he was probably the most attractive Death Eater she'd ever seen—of course, the title wasn't really that hard to gain, considering most Death Eaters came from families like the Crabbes and the Goyles—with a shock of midnight hair, piercing green eyes that glinted like emeralds in reflected sunlight, and an odd scar slightly off-centre, giving him a somewhat rakish air. To her, he was nothing on Charlie, but she couldn't deny that he was too… pretty for what one no doubt had to do to gain the Dark Mark at such a young age.

Two, he frightened her; not by much, not with Charlie holding her hand, reassuring her even if he probably didn't know he was doing it, but she couldn't deny the slight shiver of fear that trickled down her spine. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a predator's, a predator who has studied you inside and out before dismissing you as not worth the effort hunting down. As she did so, she swore she felt the slightest something brush against her mind, light as a summer breeze, but the sensation was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

She couldn't tell quite how, but she realised then why he hadn't reacted at all when he'd no doubt seen her hand plunge into her robes for her wand. He simply didn't care; she was beneath his notice, like an alley cat trying to stand up to a lion, and just as easily scared away.

Hearing her name in conversation drew her back away from her scrutiny of the unknown (hopefully former) Death Eater—she thought he could be Draco Malfoy, but from what she knew of the Malfoys, they always had blond hair. Still, it wasn't impossible—and back to her fiancée and Ginny.

"Gin-Gin," Charlie said, and Miranda stifled a laugh at the mock-furious expression on Ginny's face at the nickname, "this is my fiancée, Miranda."

"Nice to meet you, Miranda," Ginny said. "I didn't know female dragons could shape-shift."

Charlie groaned, burying his face in his palm. "Does _everyone_ have to do that?"

Ginny's only reply was an impish grin as she stepped backwards into the arms of the man who could be but probably wasn't Draco Malfoy as he walked up behind her. The gesture seemed unconscious, for the both of them; Ginny couldn't have known he was approaching behind her thanks to his silent footfalls, and the man himself wasn't even looking at her, rather searching the crowd for someone or something.

Plucking up her nerve, Miranda directed her next words to the stranger.

"Hello, I don't believe we've met. I'm—"

"Miranda Solheim, soon to be Weasley," the man interrupted. Only Charlie's tightened grip on her hand—his fingers clenched hers the way they did when someone made him angry—kept her focus away from her shock; she was worried he might try and start something. He was a Weasley, after all, and their tempers were legendary.

That still didn't stop a part of her from wondering how in Merlin's name he knew her last name; the first he could have overheard from Charlie's conversation with Ginny, but _nobody_ here except for her and Charlie currently knew what her soon-to-be maiden name was.

The tension was broken when Ginny's hand reached up almost absently and smacked the man—fairly hard—on the cheek. Her facial expression hadn't changed, still resting in the contented smile of a happy woman. He didn't react either, as if she hadn't struck him at all, but then he seemed to come to some sort of realisation, because he nodded towards Miranda as he spoke.

"As Ginny has deigned to remind me, I'm not supposed to do that anymore. I apologise for invading your privacy." The apology was slightly stilted, and Miranda got the sense this was a man not used to admitting he was wrong. She wondered what he meant for a few seconds, before realising that maybe she _hadn't_ imagined the feeling that someone else had been in contact with her mind.

"If he does it again, tell me and I'll gladly hex him for you," Ginny replied, and the man smiled. The expression seemed almost out of place on his face, and yet strangely right all the same.

"I think the lady can hex for herself, Gin," he commented.

"Oh, of course she can. But nobody else gets to curse you but me."

"What am I, your training dummy or something?"

"Well, I don't know about the training part…"

"Exactly why are we together, again?"

"Because I'm prettier than Draco?"

The man sighed, but Miranda—in between the confirmation that this man was not, in fact, Draco Malfoy—could sense the good-natured edge behind it. She would have interjected then, perhaps to ask the Death Eater who he really was, but she found herself enjoying the banter too much.

"Do you always have to bring that up? We were both drunk!"

"I'm not the one who told my best friend that the reason I loved my girlfriend was because she was prettier than he was."

"Fine, you win this round, Weasley. But don't think this is over."

"What, do you think you can take me?"

"Right here on the grass, but that's not the point."

Miranda burst out laughing, almost drowning out Ginny's reply of "Promises, promises." Here she was, watching a _Death Eater_ flirt like an arrogant schoolboy with her fiancée's sister. The image was just so ridiculous she couldn't help herself.

The pair looked at her quizzically—at least, she thought the expression on the man's face was quizzical—while Charlie's face held mixtures of amusement, bemusement and a sort of relaxation – he knew she never laughed when she was angry.

"Sorry, sorry," Miranda said. "Please, go on."

Ginny blushed slightly, while the man simply ran his hands down her shoulders a little too slowly not to be deliberate before his arms settled around her waist. Charlie took it upon himself to restore the proceedings to some form of normality, by virtue of completing the introductions.

"Miranda, this is Harry Potter, Ginny's… partner," he finished almost awkwardly, and Miranda got the sense that even though, by the looks of it, his sister had been in a relationship for years, he still wasn't particularly comfortable with it. Then she realised what name he'd said, and almost took a step backwards – only Charlie's hand in hers anchored her to where she stood, as he so often did.

"Wait… _Harry Potter_?"

"Harry, why is it that everyone seems to react to the mere mention of your name? Is there something you're not telling me?" Ginny asked lightly while Miranda still recovered from her shock.

"I really didn't want for you to learn this, dear, but… I used to teach Arithmancy," the man who seemed to be _Harry freaking Potter_ confessed.

Ginny gasped in mock horror. "No! How could you, Harry? I'm… I'm breaking up with you!" Despite her words, she made no move to leave the circle of his arms.

"That's fine, Gin; I'm sure Astoria will be thrilled. She's been waiting for an excuse to leave Draco for me for _years_."

"I am _so_ telling him you said that."

Somehow, and Miranda thought it might have been deliberate even if the back-and-forth between the two of them seemed wholly natural, the banter had set her at ease, an ease she sorely needed when apparently she was talking to a dead man. Unfortunately, said setting at ease didn't quite translate into intelligent commentary.

"You… you're dead?" she started, voice raising at the end, turning the statement into a question.

"Gin, I think she just called you a necrophiliac," the man replied, completely ignoring her in favour of his girlfriend.

Charlie sighed in exasperation, and Ginny, mouth framing a reply in kind, abruptly turned serious. She reached up again and tapped Harry on the jaw as she spoke.

"Oi, be serious," she said, and with that Harry actually spoke to Miranda.

"Father," he said, and Miranda noticed something odd misting in his eyes, "tried to kill me, but his curse rebounded; he dodged it, somehow, but then decided that since attempting to kill me had nearly led to his own body-death, he'd raise me as his own.

The prophecy could say whatever it liked; it didn't matter if I was the one destined to defeat him if I didn't _want_ to. Of course, as part of that, everyone else had to be convinced I was dead and that Longbottom was the Chosen One. All things considered, it was an admirable plan, and it probably would have worked if it wasn't for the Weaselette."

He said the last word with a tinge of affection, and though Ginny rolled her eyes and stamped on his foot, Miranda could see even through her confusion that it was a nickname she didn't really mind. She paused for a moment, Charlie's hand tight in hers, trying to make sense of what she'd just been told compared to what she'd known about the end of the war.

"Wait, Neville Longbottom _didn't_ kill Voldemort?" She knew nothing about a prophecy, only vaguely understood why Harry Potter referred to the Dark Lord as 'Father', and had no idea why he specified 'body-death' as opposed to simply death, so she focused on the only fact she'd fully comprehended from his speech.

Harry's face tightened when she mentioned killing Voldemort, and his grip on Ginny must have changed slightly, because she looked up at him before turning to Charlie, face unnaturally serious.

"Hey, Charlie, do you think you can…" she gestured absently, trailing off as she did so. Charlie must have understood, because he drew Miranda away from Ginny and Harry. As they walked away, she noticed Ginny whisper something in his ear before kissing him. He smiled faintly, whispered something back, and then kissed her back, this time far more enthusiastically.

"Sorry about that," Charlie said, breaking her attention away from the odd couple, "I really should have explained this before we arrived."

With that, he started to tell her the true, unmodified story of how the First War ended.

* * *

Some time later, Miranda found herself walking over to where Ginny Weasley sat next to a woman with pale blonde hair and impressive eyebrows; she had an unusual beauty, but there was something distinctly ethereal about her, a slight otherworldly quality that made Miranda suspect the woman was probably Luna Lovegood, if what Charlie had told her about Ginny's oldest friend was true.

Ginny waved when she saw her, while probably-Luna cocked her head to one side, studying her curiously, before abruptly waving too. Charlie's sister gestured to her to sit down, and a chair appeared from nowhere, despite nobody out of the three having drawn their wands. It was only when Ginny blew a kiss over Miranda shoulder that she turned around to notice Harry Potter stowing his wand before turning back to his conversation with Sirius Black and the man she'd seen with Tonks earlier – he'd turned out to be Remus Lupin.

Not sure what to make of the unexpected gesture, she sat down; the chair was surprisingly comfortable. She glanced between Ginny and Luna, not quite sure how to begin the conversation, and then Ginny laughed.

"I know that look," she said. "Yes, most of the stories you've heard about how the war ended are wrong. No, Neville, despite being a great guy, didn't actually kill Voldemort. But it's just easier for all of us if the world thinks he did, and if nobody knows the full truth. Harry certainly doesn't mind – the whole thing was his idea. He doesn't like to be reminded of the fact he killed the only father he ever had."

Miranda flushed slightly, ashamed at being so obvious, but spoke up regardless. "I noticed Charlie didn't quite explain in great detail how you and Harry," she stumbled a bit on the name but continued on, "met and ended up together. Forgive me for being curious, but it must be a fascinating story."

"Well, you know the children's tales, the ones where the villain abducts the princess but then eventually falls for her, turns away from evil and then everyone lives happily ever after?"

"A few," Miranda replied, a blend of curiosity and confusion bleeding into her voice.

Ginny grinned. "Welcome to my life." Despite her infectious smile, there was something in her eyes that told Miranda that was all she was going to get.

From her impressions of the two of them, she figured Ginny was concealing the truth far more for Harry's sake than her own – considering what his life had been like, what he'd seen and what he'd done, and the relentless media scrutiny that would follow him everywhere, even if every single person in the Order of the Phoenix had sworn under Veritaserum that Harry Potter was reformed and that he had been 'invaluable'—_if only they knew_—in defeating Voldemort, he'd probably want to keep her personal life as private as it could get.

Miranda was about to reply when, suddenly, a loud whistle broke out over the gathering. Everyone stopped talking, and many turned towards the noise's origin – one of the twins, although Miranda couldn't see their arms so she didn't know which one was which.

"All, right, everyone. You all know what time it is!" the twin shouted.

A roar went up, mostly masculine, although Miranda could tell Angelina at the very least had joined in, and by the look on her face Ginny refrained only because she was sitting so close to her and Luna.

"QUIDDITCH TIME!"

* * *

As the match raged on above, enough players to fill two or three Quidditch teams roughly split down the middle in terms of skill with the ease of long practice, Miranda noticed someone sitting off to one side, eyes tracking something she couldn't see even the faintest hint of. So, drawing up her courage, she walked over to Harry Potter and sat down next to him.

"Why aren't you playing?" she asked without preamble.

"Why aren't you?" he answered, eyes never leaving the sky as his gaze darted back and forth, following something, but what, she wasn't sure.

"I'm hopeless," Miranda said.

He laughed. "So am I, in a manner of speaking."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought the point of the game was to win," he said with a wry smile that looked somewhat out of place when compared to the Mark on his forearm. It was too… human for someone who used to be a Death Eater; Miranda knew she was being rather silly, but she still wasn't quite used to the enigma that was Harry Potter. He still hadn't looked at her, and she wondered what in the sky had him so fascinated.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"The Snitch," came the abrupt response. "I can't _believe_ Charlie hasn't seen it yet – I thought he was supposed to be _good_."

"He _is_," Miranda replied hotly, before realising what he'd just said. "Wait, you've already found the Snitch?"

"Four times, actually. I only ever lose it when it goes near Ginny," Harry said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Miranda thought it was the most oddly romantic thing she'd ever heard. She started laughing uncontrollably at the sheer absurdity of the idea—the almost-son of the Dark Lord, a killer born, being distracted simply by looking at his girlfriend—but when Harry (somehow he'd become Harry in the space of a few seconds) asked her what was so amusing, she managed to bring herself back under control.

"Oh, nothing," she choked out. "Nothing at all."

She didn't think it was possible to _feel_ a raised eyebrow.

* * *

The day had long passed into night, a multitude of floating candles outshining the pale moon and faint starlight providing the main source of illumination. Most of the guests had left, and only members of the extended Weasley clan remained. In one corner, Bill danced with Fleur; the fierceness of his scars belied the grace of his movements and the tenderness with which he held her. Angelina, Fred, George and Alicia were seated together at a table, talking quietly and sipping Firewhisky.

Ron and Hermione were sitting on the grass, the latter leaning up against the former with a quiet affection, tucked away in the private world reserved for those both young and in love. Arthur and Molly weren't dancing either, but rather sitting together on conjured couch, surveying their assembled family with a mixture of contentment and loss, no doubt noticing, as they always did, the absence of Percy, lost in the final days of the war as he shoved Fred out of the way of a Killing Curse.

Miranda was leaning her back against Charlie as he held her to his chest, encircled in his arms and feeling, like she always did whenever she was with him, completely at home. She no longer felt like an interloper, but rather a true member of the family she'd be joining one day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry slow-dancing with Ginny; they moved as one, always together and never apart, looking for all the world like the distance between them was nothing more than a formality. Their gazes were locked, each staring at the other like they'd found the centre of their respective universes, and Miranda was struck by the sudden realization that the only time she'd ever seen Harry looking anything like contented was when he was in the circle of Ginny's arms; after everything he'd been through—and everything he'd put other people through—it seemed the one place he truly belonged was with a girl who barely came up to his shoulder, someone who'd never taken a life and probably never would.

"Charlie, why do you dislike him so much?" she asked. She knew there was some other reason besides the fact Harry was once a Death Eater; he'd clearly redeemed himself, and she didn't know a better way of assuring people you didn't want to hurt them any more by killing your own father in single combat in the middle of the Final Battle. "You only need to look at her to see how happy she is."

"It's because she's so happy," Charlie replied, and she got the sense that he was talking for all his brothers.

"She was once our little girl, y'know? Our sister, our only sister, and we all loved her to death; Bill would do anything for her, and I wasn't far behind. The twins taught her how to prank, and more importantly, how to not get caught, and Ron, well, it might have taken him a while to understand that we were treating her differently because she was a girl—as sexist as that sounds, you know what I mean—and not because she was more 'special' than he was, but even so, he was always there for her. They're only a year apart, and it was his job to look after her for all of us when we couldn't be there.

We were growing up in the middle of a war, after all, and every single one of us knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone who had lost a brother, a sister, a mother or a father, and, well… we swore we'd never lose Ginny if we could to do anything about it.

And then _he_ came along, and suddenly she wasn't ours any more. We lost her to him, and even if that doesn't make any sense because she's right there and I can go up to her and talk to her if I want, she's still not _ours_. She's not that little girl any more - she belongs to him now, and you can just tell from looking at the two of them that she always will. He could hurt her in ways we couldn't even imagine, and I'm not talking about magic.

It's stupid, I know, but that's just the way we feel."

Miranda turned to look back at Harry and Ginny – she was laughing, head thrown back and cheeks flushed with merriment, and he was looking at Ginny with a tenderness that almost took Miranda's breath away, with the sort of expression that spoke of a fierce, primal joy that of all the people in the world, _she_ was the one laughing at _his_ joke.

And she thought that perhaps Charlie had missed one very important point – Ginny might belong to Harry, but there was no doubt that Harry belonged to Ginny, heart and soul. And that made all the difference in the world.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I confess to having borrowed a line from _Tied Together By A Red Ribbon_, one of my all-time favourite Harry/Ginny one-shots. If you want to find out what line that is, go read it!

And, of course, I need to apologize to MondayChardonnay for writing this story, given I'm supposed to be finishing a fluffy Rose/Scorpius fic instead; my excuse is that the only thing more addictive than Scorose is Harry/Ginny (because Hinny is a _horrible_ pairing name and I refuse to use it - even Peasley is more dignified), and that it had been sitting around, three-quarters finished, for about a month.

As part of that apology: anyone reading this, if you like Scorose, go read _A Fine Line_. If you don't, go read it anyway, it'll convert you.

Oh, and one last thing - if you think the name Miranda Solheim is a reference to something, confirm your guess by checking out my published Mass Effect stories. Because shameless cross-plugination is not beneath me.

~Magery


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